Soulless & Heartless
by Lowridah20
Summary: How do you fall for someone—risk your life for them—when you don't even know who they are? Peter's gift tells him his mate is in trouble, but how can he stick his neck out for a stranger? Imagine his surprise when he goes for it and it all leads back to the dang Cullens. Set during New Moon after Edward hits the road. Slightly OOC. Rated M for violence, cussing, and future lemons.
1. Prologue

**Author Note:** What's up nerds?! I kind of can't believe I'm doing this. I'm actually kind of pretty nervous over here. In years past I've tried my hand at writing stories and BOY did I crash and burn. Complete writer's block. I'm also pretty terrible at organization and timeliness, which I discovered the hard way is a terrible combination for writing fanfiction. But I LOVE Peter stories. There aren't enough of them out there and I couldn't get this out of my head, so here we are.

I make absolutely NO promises on when I'll be updating. The first several chapters of this story are written, but you're looking at the procrastinator extraordinaire. Just trying to be honest here peeps. My goal is to update every couple of weeks, but who knows. The good news is that I already have a good idea of where I want this story to go, so HOPEFULLY no writer's block this time. *Knocks on every wooden surface in 50 foot radius* This first chapter is a sort of prologue from Peter's perspective, but it's going to be the ONLY one in his POV. The rest will be in Bella's POV because personally, I hate when stories jump around. Also, just to let everyone know, I'm going for a slow build with this story and there won't be any insta love. There also might be some information that I'm intentionally leaving out to be revealed later. So just remember, _patience_ my friends all will be revealed!

Big shout out to IdreamofEddy for the Peter "knows shit" gift!

 **Disclaimer:** Okay, I'm only doing this once. HEAR YE HEAR YE. Let it be declared for this chapter and all that follows that all copyrighted material belongs to Stephenie Meyer. I do NOT own the Twilight universe, I'm just playing puppet master. MWAHAHAHAHAHA!

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 _"Do you think I am an automaton? — a machine without feelings? and can bear to have my morsel of bread snatched from my lips, and my drop of living water dashed from my cup? Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong! — I have as much soul as you — and full as much heart!" — Charlotte Brontë,_ Jane Eyre

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Shavings were everywhere, spilling over the smooth taupe wood in waves on to the concrete floor while tiny particles drifted lazily up into the air and clung to Peter in a thin film. He was bent over the board, his arm and back muscles tense with exertion as he slowly shaped the wood to his liking. Pounding rock music flooded the small space, turned up so high that the heavy bass shook the walls with a vibration even a human could hear. It had to be loud, it was the only way to drown out his own thoughts. This was his sanctuary. The only place he could get away from himself. Inside the house was too quiet, too solitary, too still. He wouldn't say lonely, it was just too fucking pathetic. In his workshop he could forget about the stupid drama that had recently taken hold of his life like a goddamn Lifetime movie and focus on his creations. It was the only thing he had now, an art that he started as a human and carried into this endless afterlife. The only thing that felt normal and comforting now. Peter trained all his thoughts on the music, the movement of his arms, the bumps of the wood, and he could forget.

Unfortunately he was forced to stop every now and again for basic needs like bathing and sustenance and it was nearing that time again. Being a vampire meant he could hole himself in the shed for about a week before he finally caved and went back inside the house. It was almost a game now. How long could he stay inside before he gave up and started working again? The point was to keep increasing the time incrementally until he wasn't so crazed, but he could only ever stay in the house for about a half-hour before he caved and went back out to the workshop again. Fucking weak. He was ashamed of himself, but it was hard to care when he was the only one around.

With a sigh, he stood up to his full height and turned off the sander, leaving it resting on the board before turning around and shutting off the stereo system. Instant silence. It sliced through him like a blade, almost making him flinch. His jaw clenched in frustration, steeling himself for the next couple hours of hell as he pulled the goggles over his head the threw them on the back wall shelf more forcefully than needed. Peter tensely sauntered out the door into the backyard, his hands clenched tightly into large fists, as he made his way across the grass and up to the back door. After sliding the glass open and stepping inside, his eyes darted around the same way they did every time he came inside the house. Charlotte was everywhere. Peter could clearly see her sitting on the large leather sofa watching tv, in the kitchen trying to bake cupcakes for literally no reason, coming through the front door after hunting—there was no escaping her and he closed his eyes tight against the memories for a brief moment. He let out a frustrated grunt and forced his legs to move forward, ignoring the strangling grip of sadness on his heart. Instead, Peter simply kept his head down and moved forward towards the stairs and into his bedroom.

He didn't look up, didn't think, just took a few long pounding strides across the room and into the bathroom. Once the shower had gotten to it's hottest temperature, Peter stripped out of his white tank, ripped jeans and work boots, leaving them in a forgotten pile on the floor. In the shower he closed his eyes under the spray and focused hard on the sensation of warm water running down his body in rivulets, washing away the itchy wooden film that had clung to him. In quiet moments like this he wondered if his life had any chances of improving. As an unchanging vampire who lived in the middle of a vast forest, holing himself up in one room for weeks at a time, how do you move forward with your life? How do things ever get better when there's nothing around to help _make_ it better? Peter cut his own thoughts off abruptly. He was already having a rough time without adding all his extra emo bullshit into the mix.

The shower lasted for hours. Warm water slowly transformed to cold, but he hardly felt a difference against his hard skin. He was reluctant to leave its relaxing confines and venture back out into the frigid house, but he did anyway, toweling off and making his way to the closet while avoiding eye contact with the bed—the place where his most vivid memories of Charlotte took place. She would be there, waiting patiently to give herself over while looking like a beautiful angel in a halo of blonde locks. Peter could almost feel the bed's gaze burning through the skin of his back, but he rigidly continued to look away and flipped through his shirt selection. It was easy choosing new clothes because he wore the same thing every damn day; jeans, work boots, and a white tank with a plaid shirt.

He had to go hunt. It had been a while and his throat burned something fierce at the back of his neck as he swallowed venom against it. Lately he had been making a habit of waiting too long to feed, something he scolded himself for on a regular basis but never remedied. Plus, his poor truck was still parked lifelessly forgotten in the driveway and needed to be driven to avoid damage. He tried to ignore the pang of guilt he felt for an inanimate object as he smoothly ducked into the driver's seat and revved the engine. He also fought the urge to talk and apologize to it. The drive was predictably boring as he drove into town and used the narrow dirt road to guide him through the trees. It took about an hour and half to get into town with two-thirds of the drive cutting through the forest, so unfortunately there was plenty of time to be alone with his thoughts. Mostly he tried to think about inconsequential things like supplies he would be needing or ideas for his next project, but eventually they all somehow lead back to Charlotte. Never in a million years would he admit this out loud, but Peter was worried. He knew he was acting ridiculous by wallowing in his depression and shutting out the world, but he didn't know how to stop. She was everywhere. How do you get over someone when you can't get away from them? Randomly he realized this was one of the few times he ever allowed himself to go into town. He only ever made the drive when he needed supplies or to quench his thirst, and those were strictly for survival purposes. Ideally he would never have to leave the workshop, and being an immortal vampire made that a viable option. Concern for his well-being swelled as he actually seriously considered it.

._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._.

Once in town, Peter parked his car in a decent neighborhood and began aimlessly walking the sidewalks in search for his prey. Scumbag hunting was an art that required patience and a keen eye. Villains come in a plethora of packages that can't be confined to one bad area or one sleazy bar. It required time. Peter wandered around the dark city with his hands in his pockets and his head down, melting into the city's noise to better observe his surroundings. The air was heavy, foggy with secretive whispers as he watched the drunks stumble and the drug dealers pass around small packages in their palms. He left them all alone though, waiting for the real kind of evil that lives like an endless ocean in the soul. Hours went by with nothing more than surface, petty crimes. It wasn't until he neared a small strip club that his steps finally slowed.

The front was covered in large neon signs that dramatized the shadows of the alleyways and shrouded them in complete darkness, but didn't stop Peter from seeing a tall, gangly, blonde man shove a woman out a side door and into the alleyway. Hiding in the shadows made from a building across the street, he watched as Mr. Thin Man suddenly shot his hand out to the woman's lower neck and pushed her up against the brick wall with force. She gasped, but could thankfully still breathe since his hand was at the base of her neck, pushing on her collar bones with the span of his thumb and index finger. Peter could tell how beautiful she was—blonde, tall, statuesque and legs for days—but she looked too thin in her tiny, gold bikini with her ribs sticking out more than was healthy. She seemed to have a sweaty sheen to her skin, makeup harshly covered up her beautiful face, and her hair was in total disarray, twisting all around her head chaotically. Mr. Thin Man yelled at her while she tried to catch her breath. "WHERE THE FUCK IS KATIE, VAL?" He pulled back and shoved her into the wall again, getting more in her face. "Because you know we sure as fuck can't rely on you to carry this operation tonight."

Val was visibly outraged, her body rigid as she tried to rein it in. "She's fucking SICK Roy, just like she told you! And that's not code for anything. She's got a cold, like fucking normal people get from time to time. You can call her cell and check-in if you need proof," she yelled angrily, but not moving a muscle.

"Well that's just FUCKING DANDY for her isn't it?! She's sick and gets a nice day off, while I'm here short a girl." He moved closer, pressing his entire body up against hers. "But I'm LOSING MONEY HERE! And you BETTER find a way to make it up to me because if I'm not getting paid then you're not getting paid either. Do we understand each other?" There was never any kind of response. Roy gradually leaned in, running his nose along the side of her face while his hand gently moved up to grip her neck more fully. He didn't start choking her, but instead used his hand placement as a silent threat. She turned her head to the side a tiny bit to give him better access to her neck, allowing Peter to see her face better. When her dull, lifeless eyes came into view, there was no question who Peter's next victim was going to be. It was obvious situations like this had occurred before and that Val was accustomed to sacrificing herself for the sake of her friends. Peter's gift may have been filling in some of the blanks, but it was hardly necessary. Her eyes said everything he needed to know in that moment.

Without a second thought he started to move forward and sauntered across the street towards them, making Val's eyes grow large and fearful at the sight. Peter forced himself to remain casual in appearance with a blank expression and his hands buried in his pockets as if witnessing alleyway horrors was an everyday occurrence. Given his hard past, it wasn't too difficult. Val was becoming increasingly more alarmed the closer he got, but it wasn't fear for herself that plagued her, it was fear for Peter. He could tell. That only encouraged him more as he stopped right in front of the couple and cockily stared daggers at Roy, waiting for his wandering hands to stop now that a new guest had arrived. However, there was no signs of Mr. Thin Man slowing down his vile exploration, which forced Peter to forcefully clear his throat in annoyance.

Roy stayed pressed up against Val, but raised his head to look at Peter with an eyebrow lifted in skeptical amusement. "Can I fucking help you? I'm a little busy right now."

Peter gathered all of his pissed off irritation and used it to his advantage, making his voice hard. "We have some business to attend to, you and I. And it's not the kind of thing we can do with a bunch of fucking horny bastards around," he said with a head nod towards the strip club.

Mr. Thin Man squinted his eyes at him in suspicion. "And who do you work for exactly?"

"Theo," Peter replied automatically with the information his brain had given him.

"Oh," Roy replied as his body visibly relaxed. "Well why didn't you just say that man?" Apparently Peter was now his buddy and the sudden change in his demeanor was jarring. Roy turned back to Val who was still stiffly standing and barely moving a muscle. "Get back inside and get to work. We can talk again _later_ ," he said suggestively. Val did nothing but nod and turn back to the door, gliding it open. She stepped back into the smoke and pulsing beat of the music that slowly faded away as the door swung closed once again. Peter and Roy were alone.

Mr. Thin Man let out a deep sigh as he turned to face Peter fully, a resigned look on his face. "I'll have the money by the end of the night, then we can make the exchange. If your worried about it, you can even stay here and keep an eye on me. Get a couple free dances out of it."

Peter didn't know what he was talking about and he didn't want to. He finally let go of his anger and it gushed out of him in waves, making his skin burn in anticipation. "No," he said simply as he began taking slow, calculated steps forward. "That's not the reason I'm here."

Roy narrowed his eyes again in annoyance, forced to back up deeper into the alley with Peter's advance. "Well then what—"

Peter kept his voice low and it shook like an earthquake from deep inside his core. His gift had told him enough about Roy to last a lifetime. "You won't be hurting those girls anymore." His hands reached out and gripped Mr. Thin Man's head on either side. Roy's eyes widened with real fear right before Peter twisted sharply, feeling the crack before the body went limp against him. He didn't waste time. Peter propped the limp body against his, resting the head on his shoulder and lifting an arm around his neck to begin the trek back to the car. He was gentle and caring along the way, acting like his friend had passed out drunk and people looked at him in sympathy without suspecting a thing. Peter even went as far as buckling Roy into the front seat before taking off towards home.

Right as he crossed the wood's threshold, he stopped the car and whipped around to the front to grab the body and bite into the flesh of his neck. The extra time hadn't lessened the flavor and the blood rolled down his throat like melted butter. Peter felt his body calm and relax slightly, the frenzy of the feed leaving him as the blood supply ended. He left Roy in the dirt as he grabbed the shovel from the bed of his truck and began scooping up mounds of damp earth. Digging a good grave takes time even as a vampire and it was a good half-hour before Peter could throw the body in. As he showered the wretched Roy in dirt, he wondered if Val would say anything to the Police when Mr. Thin Man went missing. Awful things had been done to her, so he wasn't too worried about her spilling the beans, but even if she did Peter wasn't concerned—he already kept an extremely low profile.

Once the dirty deed was done, Peter felt a little better. He was fed, the burn in his throat had dulled, and he had spared the world from one more fucked up person. He sauntered over to the truck bed and was putting the shovel back when a large spike shot right through Peter's temple into the center of his skull. "AHHHH MOTHER FUCKER!" His right hand gripped the side of his head as he bent over and the left let go of the shovel, letting it fall into the truck with loud clang that rang through the empty forest. It was like his brain was pulsing and the dagger was being driven into his head over and over again. "GOD DAMN IT," He shouted, trying to get a grip. This only happened when his gift was about to tell him something really important, but it never ceased to scare the shit out of him. Every major event in his vampire life had been bookmarked in his perfect memory with this excruciating pain. Of course, out of all the vampire gifts he could have received, he gets the one that likes the squeeze the shit out of his brain from time to time.

All at once information started pouring in, almost too much for his vampire mind to handle. There was a girl. She was in trouble and desperately needed help. Attacked. Turned. Revenge. Abandoned. Tortured. Pain. Sadness. Mate. Wait, _mate_?! She was his mate. But Charlotte was suppose to be his mate. _No_ , his brain immediately answered. _Your mate is in danger_. Just the mere thought of his hypothetical mate being in trouble tugged at his heart and made his monster vibrate in distress, but the logical side of his brain was in a thick haze of shocked confusion. Part of him was ready to jump inside the truck and start driving, no questions asked. He forced himself to stop, a low, rumbling growl escaping his chest as he fought against his body with his hands balled into tight fists at his sides. Focus. Emotion was getting in the way and Peter forced himself to push it all aside. The worry, fear, confusion, anger, heartache—all of it got locked away in the corner of his brain for him to deal with later. Instead he concentrated on the facts. There was a girl, who was his mate, and she needed help. _Now_. A woman vampire named Victoria was seeking revenge and was on the move, planning an attack. Panic started shooting through his venom-filled veins as he realized Victoria had sought help from Maria and they were in cahoots with one another. They must have made some kind of deal—Maria doesn't do anything for free. _Yes_ , his brain agreed. Peter and Maria had a history, but he had never heard of this Victoria before. How did they know one another? The legends perhaps. Peter needed to drive up to Washington and grab the girl before she woke up and decimated the whole town in her hunger, which is probably what the crazy bitch wanted in the first place.

He stood frozen behind his truck for one long moment, fighting himself like the stubborn ass he was. As much as he didn't want to admit it, his heart still belonged to Charlotte. Peter was in love with her, despite her terrible behavior, and was still mourning her loss. Learning he had a mate didn't change any of that and he didn't want to risk his skin for someone he didn't even know. This entire thing was just pissing him the fuck off. But even so, she was his _mate_. And that one word had the power to make him do almost anything. With a loud groaning-yell that stemmed from the back of his throat, he slammed the tailgate of his truck closed and glided around to the driver's seat before heading for home. He whipped through the forest and down the dirt road, making a list in his mind of everything he might need for the journey.


	2. Chapter 1

**Author Note:** Yay, people are actually reading this! I'm not just talking to myself anymore! Lol. Thank you guys for all the follows and favorites, you're awesome! I knew you would be, but I was nervous anyway. This IS the internet—you just never know.

Here's the second chapter! From here on out everything is going to be from Bella's POV. This starts up in _New Moon_ right after she "wakes up" and starts trying to see more Edward visions by going to visit the Cullen house. Below is the excerpt that sets up where I pick up my story. And I know I listed Jasper as one of the main characters. I PROMISE he's coming and will play a major (HA! Get it?) role in the story, but it's gonna be a while before he shows up. Peter and Bella are going to get a little bit of time alone before Jasper arrives.

Anyway, here it is! Happy reading!

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 _"Then there was the break in the trees that I was looking for, only it was not so pronounced as before. The flora here did not wait long to reclaim any land that was left unguarded. The tall ferns had infiltrated the meadow around the house, crowding against the trunks of the cedars, even the wide porch. It was like the lawn had been flooded—waist high—with green, feathery waves._

 _And the house was there, but it was not the same. Though nothing had changed on the outside, the emptiness screamed from the blank windows. It was creepy. For the first time since I'd seen the beautiful house, it looked like a fitting haunt for vampires._

 _I hit the brakes, looking away. I was afraid to go farther._

 _But nothing happened. No voice in my head._

 _So I left the engine running and jumped out into the fern sea. Maybe, like Friday night, if I walked forward…_

 _I approached the barren, vacant face slowly, my truck rumbling out a comforting roar behind me. I stopped when I got to the porch stairs, because there was nothing here. No lingering sense of their presence… of his presence."_ —Stephenie Meyer, _New Moon_ , Beginning of Chapter 7

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My feet were firmly planted on the ground while I stood statue still, staring at the house that once held my eternity within its walls. The nightmares would be bad tonight. I had finally found the tangible proof that I had been longing for, but rather than bring closure, all it did was pull forth every wonderful memory I had been trying to suppress. Even though the emotion had a hollow undertone, for now it felt nice to bask in the warmth of my recollections, but I knew that this would only make the dreams more vivid later tonight. As I stared at each window and shutter, the run down edges and overgrown weeds were actually making me feel a little better in a way. My time with the Cullens had been wonderful, but most of the time they unintentionally made me feel like a flea on a beautiful animal; an imperfect, flushed nuisance thrown into a flawless alternate universe. Now it finally felt like we were on the same level, this house and me—like I could finally walk inside without tainting it.

I turned around and walked purposely to my truck before I could chicken out and change my mind. Jerking the driver's door open and ignoring its metallic groan, I leaned in over the seat and turned off the ignition, stashing the keys in my pocket and slamming the door closed again. As I turned and walked back, the determination of my strides lessened the closer I got to the house and was replaced with a kind of dread that bubbled at the bottom of my stomach. I wasn't exactly sure what I feared, or what I was hoping to find inside, but it was giving me the jitters whatever it was. My feet carried me past the place I had been standing before and I forced them to climb the porch stairs one at a time. The dread got thicker the closer I moved towards the front door, slowing my movements drastically. I stopped in front of the entry and suddenly started second guessing this decision. Was this really a good idea when I already have night terrors? Oh god, what if the birthday decorations were still on the walls? That might make me throw up. And what if there was no furniture left at all? My tangible proof of their existence would be gone and I would be left wondering if I had, in fact, dreamed the entire experience.

I don't know how long I stood there inches away from the door, staring at it's shiny, navy blue paint while contemplating the weight of what I was about to do. It felt like a long time. At some point, without even really making the decision to, I lifted my hand, put it on the doorknob and twisted it slowly. It swung open easily and I immediately let go of the metal handle, watching as the door unveiled the mansion's interior and smacked lightly into the wall on my left. My body froze. It felt like I was trespassing even though I knew its owners were states away. I was also surprised that it was left unlocked. For someone so determined to erase his existence, you'd think he would have bolted the door on his way out.

My eyes quickly and jerkily darted around the exposed interior, taking in as much information as I could in a few seconds. If the spacious rooms were barren, or worse, the evidence of my infamous party were gathering dust on the walls, I wanted to see it as soon as possible and make my escape before I barfed in the doorway. As I took in my surroundings, the pressure gathering in my chest rushed out of me in a gust, the breath I'd been holding leaving as relief set in. The furniture was still here and the horrifically pleasant birthday decorations were nowhere to be found. Everything was just as pristine as the last time I graced these hallways, only this time a thin white sheet covered each piece of furniture. It was a nice compromise actually. If everything had looked the same, it would be too creepy, like they were still around hiding in the shadows somewhere. And I knew that my pathetic brain would somehow convince myself that they never really left and I'd never stop looking for them. For him. Conversely, if the house was completely empty the hole burning through my chest would ache that much more at seeing the proof of their departure. The ghostly furniture was doing me a favor, letting me know that even though they were all gone, they also had been _real_. The Cullens were real beings out in the world that had truly touched my life, and those white sheets were the evidence.

Very slowly and evenly I walked into the entry, my feet feeling like lead. My entire being avoided the baby grand piano that sat off to my left, choosing to head towards the family room in the other direction. If I sat down at that piano, I don't think I would ever get up again. The silence that weaved through every hallway and room rang through my ears at a deafening pitch, with the soft thuds of my shoes being the only noise this house had heard in months. I slowly circled the living area that the Cullens and I had spent so much time in. My mind could see the ghosts of it's former residents sitting in their old spots; Emmett, Jasper and Alice sitting on the couch, Esme and Carlisle on the left love seat while Edward and I took the other. I was suddenly sick of looking at the family room. Abruptly, before the waterworks kicked in, I turned on my heel and walked somewhat briskly past the kitchen towards the stairs.

Initially I had intended to go straight to Edward's old room, but found myself hesitating at the top of the first landing. From my vantage point, I could see the thin door frame of Carlisle's study and started gravitating towards it before I could really think about what I was doing. When I spotted the desk, I was relieved to see the studious room unchanged, but after walking through the door I sucked in a sharp breath. Half of Carlisle's fine paintings were gone, exposing the deep forest green paint underneath and leaving behind ghostly dark rectangles where they once hung. It made the room seem twice as big and I stood there gaping at the walls in shock. After a moment I realized that it made sense logically. They had to be extremely old and obviously had a lot of personal value for Carlisle, but it was still jarring to see the study look so open. Plus it served as yet another reminder of their sudden absence and I felt the charred edges of the hole burn faintly in my chest. To distract myself, I walked over to the towering bookcase and scanned the titles unabashedly like I had been wanting to since the moment I first stepped inside this house. A few titles were vaguely familiar, others were in another language and I marveled at the variety until I discovered a small pocket of classic fiction in the far bottom right section of shelves. Seeing the familiar titles made me smile, like seeing old friends at a party. Finally, something in this mansion that was mine—something they hadn't managed to take away from me. When I saw _Jane Eyre_ nestled in with the others, I was suddenly struck with an idea and acted on impulse. I dragged my hand along all of the spines, knowing that someday they would come in here and smell my scent, before I pulled the book out. It took me a silent moment to find the correct passage and when I did, I underlined it with a pen from the desk.

" _Do you think I am an automaton? — a machine without feelings? and can bear to have my morsel of bread snatched from my lips, and my drop of living water dashed from my cup? Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong! — I have as much soul as you — and full as much heart! And if God had gifted me with some beauty and much wealth, I should have made it as hard for you to leave me, as it is now for me to leave you. I am not talking to you now through the medium of custom, conventionalities, nor even of mortal flesh: it is my spirit that addresses your spirit; just as if both had passed through the grave, and we stood at God's feet, equal — as we are!"_

Then with a piece of paper I found sitting in one of the small, top drawers I penned a quick note:

" _Even now, months after your abandonment, I find myself reminiscing of my time with you. Of the family I never knew I wanted until I had them. Tell Edward that he broke his promise the moment he made it—I could never forget. I hope your immortality is filled with as much love and happiness as the one year you gave me. ~Bella"_

Satisfied, I folded the scrap of paper and nestled it in the spine of the page with the underlined passage, slipping the book back to where it had been on the shelf. It was a tad dramatic, but if you couldn't be melodramatic after your vampire soulmate skips town, when could you? Striding out of the room and down the hallway, I made my way to the only other place I had any interest in seeing inside this damn hell house.

As I reached the top of the third floor I could see his bedroom door was closed. Walking slowly towards it brought back the bubbling dread that I had been able to shake downstairs, but I forced my feet and shaking hands to ignore it while I went for the door handle. It opened with ease and I stepped into the cocoon that had once sheltered Edward and I. It was like stepping into a time capsule. Everything was absolutely the same with no white sheets to obstruct my view of his masculine furniture. All of the CDs were there covering the side wall with the sound system tucked neatly in the corner, and the large black couch still sat against the back wall facing the distractingly beautiful window that I had come to love. My eyes began to burn and the ache in my chest bloomed yet again, but I pushed myself forward towards the large wall of music. The warm tears rolled silently down the crease of my nose as I brushed my fingers against the plastic rows of CDs, a thin layer of dust pooling at my fingertips leaving a clean trail in their wake. My mind started to wander as I took in row upon row of music, wondering why he didn't bring any of it with him. He loved music so much, how could he leave it behind? Was I so horrible that he had to get out of town that fast? Or perhaps he had an impressive music collection in all of their houses.

The bedroom door behind me broke the silence as it slammed shut with a slicing crack. A bolt of terror shot to the bottom of my stomach, making me suck in a large gulp of air as I spun around, my hands suspended uselessly in front of my chest.

There she was, looking horrifically beautiful—an exact personification of my nightmares. Everything about her was so red against Edward's monochromatic room that my weak, watery eyes winced a little against the dramatic contrast before taking her in. Victoria stood statue still in front of the closed bedroom door, her red hair, red eyes, and red spaghetti strap tank top glowing fuzzily against the white backdrop. Her beautiful hair was parted on one side, draping over her right eye, and looked a little disheveled in a I've-been-running-through-the-forest kind of way. But it hung in ringlets just past her slender shoulders and framed her long, thin face. The only makeup I could detect was some mascara and the red lipstick coating her thick, full lips which hung now in an unamused straight line. Her nostrils were flaring in and out as she took shallow breaths, the only movement Victoria's body was making at all. But what truly shook me were her eyes. One glance at her red gaze and I knew I wasn't walking out of this room alive. This would be the place I died, and for a brief moment, that fact was so depressingly and cornily ironic that I felt the beginnings of hysterical laughter press up into my chest that I had to beat back down. Victoria's eyes were wide, almost completely round, with the whites severely contrasting her ruby irises. I could feel the beams of her stare shooting through me and I almost expected it to puncture my skin. It felt like her stare alone could make me bleed.

"I'm glad you decided to come up here. Chasing you down the driveway would have ruined all the fun," she said with a slight smile, her voice a deeper velvet than I remembered. Like the sound of whiskey.

My body hadn't moved an inch since I first spun around with my eyes wide, my nostrils flared, and my hands clutching my chest in surprise. Despite the adrenaline coursing through my veins, I forced my body to take on a more natural pose with my arms at my sides and one leg slightly bent at the knee, like I was relaxed. I instinctively started to think of ways to escape, but there was nothing. Her body was blocking the only exit unless I magically found a way to break the thick window at my back, but then what? "This is certainly a surprise Victoria. I was lost in thought, you gave me quite a fright," I said shakily trying to sound casual. I don't know why I was bothering, she could hear the sound of my frenzied heart beating in my chest.

Her eyes narrowed slightly from the round saucers they had been before. "It shouldn't be after what happened with James. I've been hunting you for a long time little girl," she said in a sinister voice and a slight smile that rattled my heart and had panic pooling in the center of my stomach.

 _"Lie to her Bella!"_

I jumped at the forceful voice of my love. My eyes flickered to the left only to see his foggy, transparent form slightly crouched a little ways in front of me and to the side, his eyes boring at Victoria in a way that would have had her quaking if he were actually here. There wasn't time to rejoice in the vision or question why it was happening now, so I quickly responded. "I'm truly sorry for how everything turned out. It all became such a mess so quickly," I said, feigning an apologetic tone. Part of that was true, it certainly was a mess and I was definitely sorry it happened. However, I wasn't very sorry about James' death, but she didn't have to know that. "I was just waiting for Edward and the Cullens to get back. I promised to meet them here."

She laughed skeptically, not believing a word. "Oh really?" Victoria responded, casually sounding interested like we were old friends.

 _"Come on Bella,"_ Edward bit out through his teeth, encouraging me on.

"Yes, they've all been on an extended vacation. It's been months, but I'll be with my Edward in little while thank god."

"Are you sure about that young Bella? Your sad human tears suggest otherwise," she said in a pouty voice that sounded obnoxiously condescending.

I instantly panicked as my mind went hallow. She was right, the trails of my earlier tears were still wet on my cheeks. Why would I be crying if they were coming back? All logic and common sense was completely absent. I hesitated.

 _"You're better than this Bella, think of something! Tell her you're crying in anticipation,"_ ghost Edward said forcefully, frustrated.

Shuffling my feet, I tried to act embarrassed. "Oh god you saw that? I'm just so excited that I'll finally have him back. We've never been separated for so long before." I was trying to go for the young-and-naive-love-struck-fool angle, but couldn't tell if I was successful—Victoria gave nothing away. You'd think I'd be good at it by now. I had acted that way before, but of course, now that I _needed_ to be young and stupid I couldn't do it.

"Isabella, I have been following you for a while now and you're lying to me. My opportunity has finally come," she said smiling to herself.

Her obvious satisfaction at the last sentence made my heart pound and I spoke without thinking. "Opportunity?"

I was confused and wanted answers, but my question had angered my Edward cloud. _"Dammit Bella, don't give in! Keep up the charade. Make this harder for her."_

My hands clenched into fists as I fought the urge to glare at him. Make this harder for her? Was he serious? Victoria was an evil bitch and a thousand times stronger, who could force me to do anything she wanted. I couldn't go anywhere or stop her with anything like fucking MacGyver. There wasn't even a place I could hide with his room as open as it was. I tried to brush my agitation aside. Fake Edward was just trying to help me, and I could use all the help I could get right now. Even from an imaginary ex-vampire-lover that only I could see with my psychotic brain. If I wasn't trying to plot an escape from a depraved vampire, I would roll my eyes—only I would be fighting with an invisible ex-vampire-lover right now. I began very slowly sidestepping to the left, circling around through the middle of the room.

Victoria seemed oblivious and answered my question without noticing my brief distraction. "Yes. It's because of you that my James is gone and now you shall pay the price. And what better location than the home of his vampire killer?" Her voice became angry the more she spoke, and I could tell that she had to hold herself back.

I was still side stepping, hoping that she would circle with me and move away from the door, but it was pointless. Her feet were planted in the fluffy white carpet. My heartbeat was beginning to slow as I accepted my fate and stopped in the middle of the room. The adrenaline pumping through me seemed to leak from my feet and absorb into the carpet, an oddly warm acceptance spreading in it's wake. Victoria was smart, cunning, and strong. And I was not. She would do what she wanted no matter what I did now.

 _"NO!"_ Edward roared in front of me, now slightly to my right. My exhausted surrender to my immanent, untimely death had not pleased him in the slightest. He was furious, but never took his eyes off my killer. I could tell with one quick glance that his crouch was more pronounced now, his back incredibly tense.

My resignation made the charade seem pointless. Now I was hungry for information. If I was going to die, I at least wanted to know the particulars first. "I didn't kill your mate, Jasper and the Cullens did. Why are you going after me?" It didn't make sense, shouldn't she want revenge on the vampires that had ripped him apart?

She smiled, but there wasn't light in her eyes, only clouds of darkness. "Oh believe me young Isabella my plan includes them all, but this is the first step," she said cryptically. Victoria took a slow step forward that made my beautiful vision of Edward growl.

I didn't move, there was no point. "And you've been watching me?"

Victoria kept up her evenly slow descent. "I came to check on the whole family. To see if there was some sort of weakness that would take you all down, but imagine my surprise when I found you all alone." She pouted her lips, mocking me. "I've been following you to make sure they weren't coming back, but I didn't have to watch your pathetic sobbing for long to realize you had been dumped," she said, smiling.

She was trying to get an emotional response, but it wasn't working. I was too tired and resigned for her words to cut too deep. Instead I made one last attempt for my life, feeble as it was. "Are you sure about this? The Cullens are coming. They'll find me and know it was you. You'll pay for this Victoria." My voice was surprisingly strong and even, I was proud of me.

Instead of looking shaken, she laughed. It was a genuine, arrogant laugh that told me she was getting a kick out of the thought. "I have never been more sure of anything. Let them come." She walked right through Edward's left arm and he whirled around looking at me with wide, horror stricken eyes.

Her body stopped about half a foot away from mine and I stood completely still, waiting for her to make a move. I could feel the cool air radiating from her body on the surface of my skin like a walking freezer. She had stopped breathing and for a moment it was like looking at sinister wax figure. I took the quiet opportunity to look just past her shoulder at my glorious Edward, who was standing tall right behind her with venom in his eyes. My gaze drank him in, trying to memorize every detail to take with me to wherever I was going; his bright copper hair, smooth pale skin, bright golden eyes, long eyelashes, thick handsome eyebrows, full lips, and long neck… For now, this vision was all mine and I let myself believe that his love for me was just as strong as mine was for him. A last gift to myself you could say.

Victoria suddenly kicked me in the shins, effectively knocking me out of my pleasant fantasy and off balance. I started to fall forward, but she used her left hand to backhand me hard, sending me flying through the air and into the wall. A high pitched whimper left my mouth as my right shoulder smacked into the middle of the drywall, denting it before I slid down to the floor. I landed in a heap, partially on my right side and using the wall for back support as I clutched my aching shoulder.

She descended on me once again with a face devoid of emotion except for her eyes, which were sparkling with amusement. Victoria crouched down in front of me with one of her forearms resting on her knee while her other hand grabbed my left shin, her long, thin fingers digging into my calf muscle. "Are you going to cry?" she asked with hysterical happiness as she began to squeeze her grip. "Are you going to beg for your life?"

The pain made it hard to talk since she was slowly squeezing her hand tighter and tighter, but my stubborn will kicked in. I promised myself that my last act on this earth would be defying her as much as I possibly could. My face was hard and angry as I responded. "Never," I whispered in a gravelly voice. After that, Victoria used her strength to snap the bone in my leg like an uncooked pasta noodle. I screamed long and loud, my eyes burning and tearing. Eventually, I ran out of breath and sucked in air sharply. My breaths were coming out shallow, on the verge of hyperventilating, while I whimpered at the pain. My hands fluttered uselessly over my leg wanting to clutch at it, but knowing that was a horrible idea.

Victoria was laughing. "Sorry little one, but I just _had_ to have some fun with you first," she said as her laughter faded away. She slowly leaned in closer until her her face hovered inches away from my own. "Be happy I don't have the patience for more," she said significantly, like I should be thanking her for the favor. Puffs of her breath fanned over my face as she spoke, filling me with her sweet scent. It was different somehow though, like the smell of sour candy that had an underlying bitterness that made you shiver. "You do smell quite juicy my dear," she whispered as her nose gently slid across my forehead and down my temple. "I think I'm going to enjoy this part." Her teeth were suddenly buried in the skin at the corner of my neck, each of my wrists restrained in her hands, and I squeaked in surprise as an odd aching soreness started to spread in my left shoulder. I could feel my blood overflowing from her mouth, falling in thin streams down my back and chest, soaking my shirt. My eyes floated around the room in shock, not really seeing anything until I spotted my blurry Edward several feet away. He was crouched down in a ball with his head in his hands, his feet planted on the floor while he rocked back and forth shaking his head.

I couldn't stand to see him so tortured. Even though I knew he wasn't real, I called out to him, past the point of caring whether Victoria heard me or not. Besides, she was otherwise occupied at the moment. "Don't worry about me Edward, I love you," I croaked. He stopped rocking and looked up at me with his head still in his hands, anguished. "It was worth it," I whispered as my eyelids grew heavy. A slight burn started to seep out slowly from Victoria's sharp teeth, like a fire slowly moving across the planes, catching and igniting anything in it's path. I closed my eyes, lolled my head back, and started to groan low against the sensation, remembering vividly how awful it had been with James. I hoped she killed me soon.

My body was slowly pushed down and I felt myself sliding against the wall until I was lying partially on my back with Victoria hovering over me. The burning was getting worse in its intensity as it slowly took up more area on my body. But instead of finishing me off and sucking me dry, I felt Victoria's teeth slowly slide out of my skin leaving the holes exposed to the cool air like someone blowing on the top of an open glass bottle. I was confused and disappointed and terrified. Why didn't she just kill me? Did she have something worse planned? What could _that_ possibly be? She didn't give anything away, just stood back staring at me with a small, evil smile and admired her handiwork. Finally, the suspense got the better of me. "What are you doing?!" I half yelled. It was supposed to be a demand, but my burning flesh made it come out as more of a groaning whine.

She smiled down at me as she crouched over my body. "All a part of the plan Isabella. I'm not going to kill you, I'm going to let you burn alive. You're going to know what it's like to get the gift of forever only to have it taken away from you." I looked up at Victoria with wide, manic eyes as I absorbed what she was saying. She was turning me. I was going to burn through the change and then she was going to rip me and my fake vampire non-family apart. Literally. No no no, she was suppose to _kill_ me. I was supposed to die. Edward wasn't here. There was no point in infinity without Edward. She was suppose to murder me. Victoria leaned down until her lips were brushing the shell of my ear. "See you soon Isabella. I'll be waiting." She stood and for a few seconds and all I could see were her feet sideways on the carpet, then she turned and I watched her slowly walk away from my warped point of view. I wanted to stop her, say something, yell at her, anything, but the burn had consumed my whole body now and I couldn't think of anything remotely coherent.

All I could do was lay there, awkwardly contorted on the floor against the wall while it felt like my skin sizzled off my flesh, leaving me open and raw to the cool air. Everything was fire and I finally filled my lungs and gave in to the gritty, throaty scream that did nothing to bring me any relief.


	3. Chapter 2

In the beginning I tried to count. I screamed, cried, whimpered, groaned, writhed, wiggled, anything to find some sort of outlet for this agony. The haze that was wrapped around my brain had me thinking that if I shrieked hard enough, I could push some of the pain out with my lungs, but nothing worked. Time started to get lost—the seconds feeling like hours and the hours feeling like seconds. That's when I started counting to try and ground my mind in some sort of reality. I needed to find something to tether it down from the floating smoke of the fire, like a kite blowing in the breeze. If I could just reel it in and get a handle on myself, maybe I could contain some of this demented thrashing.

 _One Mississippi… two Mississippi… three Mississippi… four Mississippi…_

Just below the burn, I could feel the sting of my fingertips clawing at the carpet and I thought maybe a straight jacket and padded cell wouldn't be too bad right now.

 _182… 183… 184… 185…_

I was beginning to realize the stupidity of this plan. Yes it was nice to have a frame of reference for the passing time, but counting was doing nothing to distract me from the scorching lava running through my body. Pain like this couldn't be distracted. My numbers weren't even accurate anymore because I kept pausing to scream and scratch at my chest.

 _2,486… 2,487… 2,488… 2,489…_

How did the others _do_ this?! At least I know what's happening. At least I know _why_ my body is being flayed alive with liquid fire. How could they all stand this torture without knowing the reason? Poor Esme had just tried to kill herself by hurling off a cliff, Carlisle was attacked in the middle of the damn street and abandoned, Edward had been on the verge of death in the hospital, and Alice could barely even remember who she was. Carlisle was probably smart enough to figure it out since he had been hunting vampires in the first place, but still. Who could go through this torture without knowing the reason, or knowing that it would eventually end? They probably thought they were going to burn in this hell forever. No wonder they begged for death.

Behind the blinding pain engulfing every part of me and the sounds of my horse yells, I thought I could sense movement. The padded thuds of feet on the carpet. Soft breaths going in and out of nostrils. I even felt someone brushing hair off my face and it confused me, but I was too scared and distracted to open my eyes. Was this part of it? Was insanity just another symptom of this burning the Cullens always spoke of? I didn't know what was real and what wasn't anymore.

 _162,674… 162,675… 162,676… 162,677…_

Things were starting to shift and it was scaring the crap out of me. In the middle of counting I suddenly realized that I was yelling, thrashing, clawing, thinking, and flipping through numbers all at the same time. I no longer needed to shift my focus to each one individually, and it was an odd sensation. My head felt more cavernous than before even though it still weighed exactly the same, like a hot air balloon was strapped above my eyebrows. Each activity could be placed neatly in a corner of my brain, allowing me to focus on each one simultaneously. Maybe I should have been thankful, or relieved, but all this did was remind me what was happening and how much I didn't want it. Not now. This wasn't the way it was suppose to happen.

I felt terror spread through my chest thinking about the future and the monster that I would probably become. What if I went into a blood frenzy and massacred Forks? What if I hurt Charlie? Part of me just wanted this fire to burn me up and turn me into a pile of ashes for the Cullens to find a few decades from now. Charlie would be safe, Victoria's plan would hopefully be ruined, and I wouldn't have to live with the charred hole where my heart used to be. I wanted to give up, to raise the white flag in defeat, but the venom wouldn't let me. It just kept burning.

This new expansive brain didn't stop the insanity I was feeling, much to my dismay. I kept getting flashes of random sensation that were so out of place, it _almost_ managed to distract me from my burn. The smell of chemicals seared the inside of my nostrils. A chill ran over my body a couple times that felt so good, I wanted to drown in it and I whimpered in disappointment every time it faded away. There were times it felt as if I was floating in the sky, like an angry hell cloud that was absorbing the heated rays of the sun. And then my body fell into a rhythmic sway that lulled my mind into a temporary calm that I welcomed with open, fiery arms.

 _296,232… 296,233… 296,234… 296,235…_

My skin felt different. Inside, my blood still felt like lava sloshing through my limbs, but on the outside I felt cool like a weird burrito. It made me remember being sick and running a fever; curling into a ball and never feeling warm no matter how many quilts you wrap around yourself while my skin was on fire. Two temperatures dueling it out on my body at the same time.

And thanks to my increasingly sharpening senses, I was slowly beginning to realize that these strange sensations weren't side effects of the burn. I was being moved. For a long while I didn't want to believe it, so I convinced myself that I was mistaken. My mind was cloudy with pain and made me feel things that weren't there. Hell, before Victoria attacked I was seeing and talking to a ghostly vampire ex-boyfriend that wasn't really there—weird phantom sensations wouldn't have been that far of a leap. But as my body gently vibrated against the smooth softness on my back, the pieces began to slowly come together. I could hear the wind whooshing and screaming in my ear, an engine rumbling in front of me, rubber rolling against pavement, faint breathing, the coolness of the leather seat I was laying on. It was a car.

For a few panicky moments, I thought about doing something. I couldn't exactly attack, but maybe I could flail and thrash to throw them off. But then what would I do? It's not like I could run. Not like this. If by some miracle I made them crash the car, I would be trapped and they would walk away like the immortal vampires they are. Probably with me in tow. No, it was better to wait it out and bide my time later. Victoria couldn't win, I would escape her.

 _308,023… 308,024… 308,025… 308,026…_

The drive started to get rough and I bounced heavily in my leather seat. Jerking up and down made the pain ripple through my limbs in waves as if the venom were a poisonous sea in a storm. I cried out—a sound something between a scream and a whimper—as I tried to hold it together in front of my captor. Even if I was going through hell, I didn't want them to see my weakness.

Then I finally heard the driver speak for the first time since this whole ordeal started.

"I'm sorry," he said in a low, warm voice that sounded like soft suede. Part of me had been expecting Victoria herself, so I was momentarily distracted from my pain in pure shock. One of her lackeys I'm sure, but somehow I still felt relief.

After a heavy pause he continued. "I know this is hurtin' you, but it's the only way back. It won't be too long now." He sounded tense, but I took the comfort just the same. At least _one_ of Victoria's minions wasn't completely heartless.

The bumpy drive went on for what felt like centuries, spreading the pain until it muddled my thoughts and halted my counting. Eventually the terrain evened out and I felt the car turn a couple times before stopping completely. The keys rustled as the mystery driver turned the ignition and silence engulfed us. It was jarring and my whole body tensed, my hands tightening into fists as fear spread out through my chest. I started whimpering as my terror began to blend with the pain, increasing it tenfold.

Mystery man pulled the car door handle and I heard it swing open. His feet crunched on gravel. The car door slammed closed. Hard, purposeful steps sounded below my feet and around the back of the car to my left until he pulled open the door that was right above my head. Cool spring air rushed into the tiny space making my skin feel even hotter and I threw my head back and yelled against the pain, writhing in the seat for one long moment.

"I'm sorry Bella, I have to move you. I'm gonna touch you now, but I won't hurt you. That's a promise. You don't have to be scared of me," my mysterious captor said softly. It would have been comforting had I not been so terrified of Victoria. _Okay person-I-don't-know,_ I thought bitterly. _I'll just stop being frightened even though your orders come from a sadistic, evil she-devil._ My jaw clenched and I started panting through my nose as his arms slid under my body, lifting me into the air. The action stirred the venom in my veins again and I whined at the back of my throat as a car door slammed. He ran with me a long moment, the wind whipping past us, and then stopped where he abruptly settled me on the ground. I could smell the earth, the flowers, the trees. My fingertips weaved through blades of grass and it was the most content I had felt through this whole process. Well, despite feeling like I had been skinned alive.

His voice rang out from a few paces away. "Brace yourself, won't be long now."

 _329,841… 329,842… 329,843… 329,844…_

Instinctually I knew when the end was near, and I would have been relieved had I not wanted to scratch my skin off from the agony. I could hear my own heart beating faster and my breathing became a rapid wheeze as I tried to get a deep, satisfying inhale without success. My back arched high off the ground, legs bent, against the blood shooting through my veins with a sizzling heat that would have probably caused steam to rise off my skin if it wasn't so frigidly cold. Every vein in my body glowed warm and I could feel each one surging blood up through my limbs and into my heart like tiny freeways that led to a black hole. It made my whole body vibrate and I wailed piercingly as it all reached a crescendo. The fire, the screaming, the burning, the shivering, the clawing, the kicking—it was all happening at once as my obscenely rapid heart tapped against my sternum, shaking my ribcage. With my eyes shut tight I let out another long, throaty yell from the dark depths of my brain that stretched on as my heart tapped faster and faster.

And then suddenly, my heart completely stopped. There was nothing, and I didn't realize how loud my heart had been until I couldn't hear it anymore. It was the most terrifying silence of my existence. The sound of my death.

The pain lessened considerably after that, but the burn still continued. I was able to lower my spine back onto the grass and quiet my screaming to heavy panting while the fiery venom continued to consume my body. As I waited second after second, the burning began to creep away in tiny fractions. It was so subtle that I didn't even really realize what was happening until my forearms and feet simmered down to a dull tingle, the embers twinkling before dying out. Eventually the fire evaporated leaving a subtle prickling deep below the surface of my hard skin, but I remained perfectly still. The nothingness felt too wonderful, my relief was too great, I didn't trust it to last. Logically I knew that it was probably over, from what the Cullens had told me anyway, but I couldn't bring myself to budge. It felt too good.

As time went on, it became increasingly obvious the burn was truly a thing of the past and I found my attention span turning to other things instead. I was too frightened to open my eyes. My memory kept flickering back to the Cullens who had such amazing eyesight, they could see miles into the distance and pick up details that my human mind couldn't even begin to wrap my brain around. What would eyesight like that be like? Intuition told me that the moment I lifted my lids, I would be completely overwhelmed, which didn't seem like a good thing to be in my current state. Instead, I focused on my hearing because it was a hard sense to ignore at the moment.

Everything was so loud, screaming in my ear like a stereo pumped up on full blast. I wanted desperately to twist down the volume knob that didn't exist, just so I could think straight for a few seconds. My strong ears could hear the slight breeze rushing through the trees, branches rubbing together, blades of grass caressing my skin, insects flitting around overhead, thumping hooves hitting the soil—I could hear _everything_. All at the same time. And the more I concentrated on it, the more I could pick up until it was all too much.

I started to panic. My heavy, shallow breaths were the loudest sound of them all and I felt my body tense with the need to run away. Immediately I wanted to open my eyes, but thankfully my new, spacious brain thought better of it and kept them closed. I needed to distract myself from the deafeningly loud ambient noises before I did something stupid, so I thought about something else. Filling my lungs with air, I took a big whiff with my nose to see what smelling would be like. It hit me instantly. Sweet. Vampire. _RUN_. My muscles tightened again to flee and I dug my fingers into the dirt as I fought against it with my better judgement. _It's the mystery guy. You can't run from him, he'll be expecting that._ I forced my body to relax with thoughts of escaping when the time was right. _Bide your time. Be smart. A time for escape will show itself._ Slowly I inhaled again, bracing myself for my reaction this time. Sweet. Vampire. Only one vampire though thankfully. I flinched against the flight instinct, but ignored it and went a step further. It was the sweet smell of vampire, but it had undercurrents of leather and fresh soap. _Like his voice_ , I thought to myself. And disturbingly, I found that I liked it. I _really_ liked it. Oh god.

I rolled over onto my stomach and lightly pushed my face into the grass, inhaling deeply. It smelled like dirt, and fresh air, and dampness, and flowers, and I loved it. The tips of each grass blade swept across my face and I smiled at the sensation. I had assumed I would I be incapable of things like being tickled now, but apparently that wasn't the case. My skin was cold and hard, which I thought would make textures harder to feel, but it was the opposite—I could feel _everything_. Everything around me—the air, the ground, my clothes, these leaves—felt warm. The world was warm now. As my fingertips grazed lightly over the blades I could feel every edge, every leaf, every vein against my new skin. Instead of feeling stifled and overwhelmed, these new sensations were starting to comfort me in an unexpected way. For one fleeting second, it felt like I was home. When my hand hit some moist dew that still clung to some leaves, I could feel my smile spread wider across my face and a quiet, soft chuckle drifted into the air behind me.

With one last inhale I made my body turn back over so I was laying on my back again, my arms spread wide. It was time to get this over with. I tried to brace myself for what was on the other side of my eyelids, my imagination going haywire with all the possibilities, but it was impossible to prepare yourself for something you knew nothing about. Instead, I sighed heavily before letting my eyes pop open. Clouds. Puffy grey clouds suspended in the sky like a wall of rotten cotton candy. To see anything else I would have to sit up, but that also meant facing my kidnapper—not exactly high on my wishlist. I knew this would probably freak my newborn shit out, so I braced myself for the presence of the unknown stranger. _Don't be an idiot, don't be an idiot, don't be an idiot,_ I chanted as I sat up.

For a long second I was completely distracted by the trees. We were sitting in a huge open field with a large two-story wooden cabin standing majestically about twenty yards in front of me, but the outside of the meadow was lined with beautifully tall trees. They swayed in the wind and I could see every branch, every twig, every leaf as they rustled together. The complexity and detail of my new eyesight baffled me and I watched it all dance in the sunlight for a moment. A flicker of movement in my peripheral vision brought me back to reality and I turned my head to face the man crouching off to my front left.

If my eyes weren't already wide with fright, they would have turned large at the sight of him. He was covered in scars. There were only a couple on his face, but they peppered the rest of his body more heavily. The left corner of his neck was so concentrated with bite marks that they all melded together, as if a great monster with giant teeth had bit into him there. I should have been scared, but his expression was so wary and guarded that I found myself unafraid, just anxious. He was crouching down low with his booted feet planted firmly on the ground, his wrists resting on his bent knees. After spending so much time with the Cullens who clothed themselves like expensive preppies, I was somewhat shocked by this man's casual attire. All he was wearing was dark wash jeans, a white undershirt, and an open red plaid button-up with the sleeves rolled up. He had a bulky frame like Jasper's with thick arms; a long neck; cropped, shaggy, sandy blonde hair; and squared jaw that was now clenched in tension. He seemed surprisingly relaxed given his proximity to a strange baby vampire, but I could intuitively sense his years of experience and guessed he would attack without hesitation if I tried anything tricky.

Sitting in the middle of this field with the cool breeze blowing against my skin made me feel exposed, but I couldn't look away from this stranger for fear that he would suddenly be on me. Instead I felt myself slowly curling into a small ball with my legs bent against my chest and my arms wrapped around them. He didn't move. "Who are you?" I finally asked into the silence. The sound made me start and I felt my eyes grow even wider. It was me, but it didn't sound like me. My voice had gone through puberty in the span of days. The cadence was slightly deeper, but more smooth and sultry—a word I never thought I'd associate with myself. After a second, I remembered my original question and forced my eyes back to the man in front of me.

For a long moment he didn't answer, just looked at me with a wary expression. Finally he replied with "My name is Peter. Peter Whitlock."

I could hear the slight lilt of a southern accent and realized I liked it. It made him more approachable somehow. Ohhhh Victoria was good, sending in the nice vamps to lull me into a false sense of safety. When he didn't continue with any sort of explanation I raised my eyebrows at him. Really? That's it? "Okay Peter Whitlock," I replied when it seemed like he was waiting for me to respond. "You work for Victoria right? I'm your prisoner now?" God my voice sounded so weird! I could hardly concentrate on the conversation I was so distracted by its new sound. Using my voice also brought attention to the burn in the back of my throat, and I absently lifted my hand to rub my clavicle.

Peter seemed taken aback. "No! No I don't work for her. I'm sorry, I should have known you would think that. It's just me, I live here alone. No newborn should be left abandoned. I thought you could use some help." His eyes kept glancing to the hand rubbing at my throat.

"You're alone," I stated with obvious skepticism. "But you just happened to find me in—wait where are we?" I asked, cutting myself off with a sudden feeling of helplessness.

"Montana," he replied with wry smile that irritated me. Yeah, laugh it up.

"Right," I continued again a little more forcefully. "You're alone, but you just happened to find me in another state, changing in the top room of a private home." The sarcastic tone was my way of asking without asking.

Peter sighed. "I have a gift," he admitted reluctantly. His expression even turned a little embarrassed. "For some reason, sometimes I just know shit. Like a little voice in the back of my mind that answers my questions or warns me about things that are gonna happen." After seeing my shocked expression, he tried to lighten the mood. "I'd think I was a crazy person if the voice wasn't right every goddamn time," he said in light annoyance.

"So you see the future?" I couldn't believe this. Not another one.

For some reason, this greatly offended him. "No that's not it. It's not just the future, it's anythin'. My gift let's me know information. Sometimes that information just happens to be about the future." Peter paused briefly but didn't give me a chance to respond. "I was feedin' the other day and heard that you were attacked and needed help. I couldn't just let a newborn fend for itself like that, it wouldn't be right. Like being a vamp isn't fuckin' terrifyin' enough," he said while shaking his head angrily. "Plus who knows what could have happened. I didn't want you murderin' anyone or decimatin' the whole town. We have rules about that kind of thing."

 _The Volturi_ , my brain agreed. I hadn't even thought of them or what they would have done if my crazy newborn ass lost my mind and threw a blood party upon waking. That would have been awful to deal with alone on top of everything else. Although, they might have been able to stop Victoria. I looked back up at Peter and saw him watching me intently as I continued to absently rub my throat. It still burned, but it wasn't too bad. After the burn I just went through, it felt like I could lose all my limbs and brush the pain off as a minor inconvenience. But I didn't know what to make of Peter's story and an awkward, tense silence fell over us. Dazedly, I gently shook my head while I studied him, as if an answer would magically appear on his forehead. "I really want to believe you, but I don't. In my experience, if something is too good to be true then it's too good to be true," I stated, not really expecting an answer. "Can you prove it?"

"Prove it?" Peter repeated confused, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah. I don't know how your gift works, but is there a way to prove your story is true? Maybe by telling me something you couldn't possibly know?" I felt a little guilty for asking since he saved me and had to repeatedly remind myself that I was basically just abducted by this man.

He sighed deeply and narrowed his eyes, like he was preparing for something unpleasant. Or trying to see through me. Maybe both. "Your name is Isabella Marie Swan. You were born on September 13 and lived with your parents in Forks until they divorced when you were four. You lived with your mother Renee in Phoenix for most of your life and had to play the adult while she ran off and tried to capture the fountain of youth." I stared at him wide-eyed with shock, sitting completely motionless for the first time in my new life.

Peter paused a moment and studied me, like he was deciding something. When he continued I understood why. "To this day you resent her for putting you in that position, which makes you feel guilty, so you never confronted her about it. When she met her husband Phil and got married, you were relieved because he could deal with her shit and all the responsibilities wouldn't have to fall on you. Then you went to live with your dad Charlie a year ago to give your mom some space. And knowing Charlie better has made you more resentful toward your mother because he's a good man. You met the Cullens at school and fell in love with Edward before they screwed you over and left you unprotected and defenseless." His nose scrunched up in distaste during the last sentence, but I couldn't tell if it was because Peter knew the Cullens and didn't like them, or because he was disgusted with their abandonment.

I sat there like a moron, staring at him in stunned silence. There were no words. Finally I managed to squeak out "Well. I think that about covers it."

Peter gave me an amused smile as if to say _you asked for it._ Thankfully he didn't. "How are you so calm?"

It was an abrupt question and caught me off guard. "Huh?" Smart Bella.

He looked at me with amazed confusion that would have made me fidget as a human. "You're sitting here calmly talking on unknown land, with an unknown vampire, after being attacked and dragged away from your old life. You haven't jumped, or bit, or snarled. Shit, you haven't even tried to run. I don't get it."

Now I looked down at my body briefly in tense alarm. "Uhhh… Well… I don't know. Is this not normal?" When he didn't answer me, just stared at me in blank disbelief, I kept nervously talking to fill the silence. "It's not like I'm completely at ease. But what would I do? I've thought about running, but something tells me you're ready for that. I think I might be able to outrun you with my newborn strength, but where would I go? There's no one to help me and I can't do this on my own. Really don't feel like destroying any towns today. And if you're telling me the truth—which I suspect you are after that performance—than I'd much rather stay here anyway."

After glancing down at my body a moment ago, I was suddenly acutely aware of how little clothing I wore. When Victoria attacked a few days ago I had been covered in my signature skinny jeans and t-shirt, but my hard fingers had clawed at the fabric too much during my change. My pants, thankfully, were still mostly intact with a few rips and frays along my thighs—right where my hands could reach, I realized. Over my shoulders were the tattered rags that were once my shirt. The front was almost completely torn open with just a couple thin strips holding the two sections together. I just thanked whatever god that my bra was in one piece and covering the goods. Instinctively, I pulled my knees closer to my chest and started tugging the pieces of my shirt together like a weird bathrobe.

This seemed to jostle Peter out of his concentrated expression and he stood up slowly, sliding his plaid shirt off. As he cautiously made his way to me, stepping over the large indents I had made in the dirt during my change, I marveled at the number of bite marks that littered his arms. It occurred to me that I should be terrified of this man, but as I tried to inspect him without being too obvious, all I could muster was concern for his well-being. By now I was about twenty minutes old and had never been bitten by another vampire before, but I assumed it had to hurt. What kind of shit had this guy been through?

Peter stopped and crouched close to my left, draping his shirt around my shoulders as he studied me. I was touched. "Thank you," I almost whispered as I slipped my arms through the sleeves. Talking in my normal voice felt wrong with him so close.

His expression softened as I began to button up the front. "Let's get you fed and cleaned up, yeah?"

I smiled and nodded my head, deciding to be a fucking moron and trust him.


End file.
